Free Entice (Hearts of Stone #2) by Veronica Larsen

forward as though I'm about to reveal a sacred secret that men are not meant to hear.
      "She wants to be flattered, but not too much. She wants to know you like her but wants to feel unsure of it at the same time. Does that makes sense?"
    "I think so. What do I do?"  
    I hesitate. I know what I'm supposed to tell him. I'm supposed to tell him to be himself. To tell her the truth about how he feels. And if she doesn't appreciate him the way he is, she doesn't deserve him. That's what I'm supposed to say. But, of course, it's not what I'm going to say.
    "You do something sweet for her. But make sure it's in front of her friends, otherwise it won't count. Then you ignore her for a day, maybe two. Then do something else sweet for her. And repeat."
    "That's it?" he asks, incredulous.
    I shrug. "I give her a week before she's in love with you."  
    I'm going to hell. But it's true.  
    The kid may be cute but he carries himself like an old man, dragging his body from place to place. His shoulders slumped, head tilted down. His lack of confidence makes him forgettable. He's not the type of boy that gets the girl. The truth is even a grown woman is wired to want a difficult man. The obsession starts with not knowing what he's thinking.  
    Does he like me? Is this a game? Why didn't he call me? Why hasn't he looked at me?  
    I'm trying to do Landon a favor by telling him the truth. He would learn it on his own eventually but a kid like him would probably end up friend-zoned every time before he realized that a small, healthy streak of asshole is what girls secretly like.
    It's not my fault. It's not like I was the one who infected the subconscious of women everywhere with this twisted notion. It is what it is.
    He squints at me. "That sounds like a trick. Way too easy."
    "Try it. Let me know if it works."
    "It's a deal," he says, glancing at his watch.
    I'm impressed the kid even owns one. Landon gets up, digs into his pocket, slams down a crumpled up ten-dollar bill, and calls out to Owen as he did the other morning.
    I get a sensation of déjà vu, searching Owen's reaction. It's the same measured expression as he watches Landon walk off then stuffs the bill unceremoniously into his pockets before his eyes lock onto mine.
    "Good morning," he says, automatically.
    There's no sense of familiarity between us. No remnants of the banter from the hospital yesterday. Owen is cold and distant again, as though I've walked through those doors for the very first time and he secretly wishes I'd go away.
    He wipes down the counter beside me.
    "All right, Owen. I just have to know. What is it about me that turns your smile upside down?"
    He stops to stare at me and I can tell he thinks I'm being ironic. Thinks I know exactly what his grudge is against me.  
    "I believe it's called classical conditioning," he says.
    My response is a small shake of the head, signaling my confusion.  
    "When you crush on things that get your ribs broken, you learn not to crush on them anymore," he explains.
    "Are the ribs a metaphor for something?"
    "I don't know," he says, not missing a beat, "was you sending your boyfriend to break them a metaphor for something?"
    I'm not sure if he's kidding. He seems to have the driest sense of humor I've ever encountered. He delivers his words deadpan. And though his face is serious now, it's too serious.
    "Okay—" I put up a hand "—let's stop right there. What are you talking about? Who broke your ribs?"
    "You mean, you don't remember?"
    "If I did, I wouldn't be asking." As I say this, something cold grips my stomach because the answer dawns on me before it leaves his lips.
    "Varsity wrestler, stocky blond guy."
    Jesus Christ.  
    "Jonathan broke your ribs? When the hell did this happen?"
    Owen turns slightly away from me. "Really, let's not bother having this conversation now. My ribs healed fine."
    His words carry the insinuation something else didn't heal so well.  
    I shoot up in my seat and grab his arm before